Ivy's POV“Why would you do such a thing?” All eyes shift towards the Lycan King as he asks the question that no doubt everyone has had on their mind. It’s evident by now that Wilson cares deeply for Sylvia, but judging by her trembling lower lip and wide, watery eyes, it seems that–in the moment, at least–his actions are hurting her more than he’s helping. Wilson breathes out a long sigh, running a hand anxiously through his soft brown hair. “I really did catch Quentin kissing that maid in the foyer,” he explains. “And he wasn’t exactly being subtle about it, either. I didn’t have any idea what to do–all I knew was that I couldn’t let Sylvia marry a man like that. I tried to challenge him, but he denied the claims, and–well, you all saw how that went,” he says bitterly. “Careful, Wilson,” the Lycan King warns. “You’re still on thin ice until you can properly explain yourself.” Wilson purses his lips. “Anyways. After I lost my position as Beta, I realized that I had nothing left
Ivy's POV“You love Sylvia?” The Lycan Queen presses her mouth in shock, looking between the two with wide eyes. She doesn’t seem mad, exactly, but she seems confused–not quite sure what to say. What could she say, after all? The man who’s just undone her daughter’s engagement is suddenly pronouncing his love for her. There are very few positive ways this situation could play out. “I do love her,” Wilson declares boldly, jaw set with determination as he doubles down on the declaration. Sylvia looks at him with wide, shining eyes. A smile starts to creep across her face until she’s beaming widely, looking at him like he’s the center of the universe. “Well, do you love him, Sylvia?” The Lycan Queen asks. “I do,” Sylvia confesses shyly, stealing another glance at him. The Lycan King narrows his eyes at the pair. “How long has this been going on?” He asks gruffly. “Since my eighteenth birthday,” Sylvia replies with a blush. “Since you were eighteen?” The king repeats, glaring at
Ivy's POVWilson looks happier than I’ve ever seen him look before. His fingers are interlocked with Sylvia’s, but now there’s no shame to it, no hidden fright at the possibility of being seen during even the briefest moment of fleeting touch. Instead he pulls her closer as the Lycan King and Queen rush forward to hug the happy and congratulate them on their newfound engagement. “Congratulations!” The Lycan Queen says, smiling happily at Sylvia. “You shall have a wedding after all, and–you know, it’s every mother’s dream for her daughter to marry for love with a partner who can give her what she needs. I’m glad everything is working out for you.” I feel a slight sting at her words, certain it’s a thinly-veiled jab at me and my status, which has done nothing but drag Spencer’s down. My weakness, my vulnerability–those things I’ve shed. But as a viable marriage candidate for Spencer, from a crown politics standpoint, I don’t really have much going for me. “I’m glad Sylvia is going
Spencer's POVAs I stare into Ivy’s eyes, I can’t help but see her as guilty. After having the warriors follow her around for the past couple of days, I was enraged to learn that Alpha Quentin was the man she’d been sleeping with. How she looked leaving his bedchambers has haunted me, how ready she was to throw herself at him. As though our mate bond has meant nothing to her this whole time. Ivy grabs my arm and pulls me into her room quickly. “What are you talking about?” She hisses, keeping her voice low. I glare at her. I can’t believe that she’d try and feign ignorance with all of this–after the warrior confirmed he saw Ivy pull Alpha Quentin into a conference room, I’ve been pacing back and forth in my bedroom, trying desperately to figure out how to confront Ivy about all of this. But then I’d received the mind link from my mother, the Lycan Queen, telling me that Sylvia is no longer engaged to Alpha Quentin, and that she’d be marrying Beta Wilson instead. What I can’t fig
Ivy's POVAt the look of profound hurt in Spencer’s eyes, I can’t help but feel shocked and stunned by his audacity. “You need to mind your own business and leave me alone,” I snap at him. “Don’t forget–you left me. What right do you have to feel upset about what I do or don’t do with other people? You want to move on? Fine! It’s not like you’d give me a choice in the matter either way!” I didn’t sleep with Quentin, but you know what? Maybe Spencer needs to think I did, even just for a couple moments. Maybe then he’ll be able to understand that he can have me or he can leave me, but he can’t drag me along behind him forever.Maybe then he’ll have it in him to take me back. Spencer shakes his head, eyes blazing with fury. He stalks towards me, still breathing heavily. I watch the rise and fall of his chest. “This is unacceptable,” he growls, a low hum of a sound that sends shivers along my skin. I look up at him defiantly. “Oh, is it now?” I ask, voice dripping with fake pity. “Li
Ivy's POVAs I’m struggling to gather my breath, Spencer’s hands are already fumbling with the buttons of my blouse, trailing across my skin and burning like a brand. His lips break from mine abruptly, then trail along my jaw, my neck, my collarbones. I feel like I’m on fire, lost in the sweet haze of his kisses, of his sweet affection. For a few fleeting moments–just a few–I’m in Spencer’s arms, and everything is right in the world. But then I remember everything that’s happened between us, the context that brought him to my bedroom, and I finally have it in me to push him away. “Wait,” I tell Spencer, placing my hand soldily on his chest as I shove him away. “Wait, no, this–this isn’t right.” Spencer looks up at me, mouth half-open. His lips are already slightly swollen and he’s breathing heavily, clearly caught up in a thick haze of lust. Half the buttons on my shirt have already been undone, and my skirt is riding up my thighs. “How could this not be right?” He asks breathi
Spencer's POVSeeing Ivy spread out on the bedsheets, breathless and barely able to form words, is almost enough to make me break my resolve and just fuck her like this. But there’s something so addictive about making her beg. I continue to trace my tongue over her. I know exactly where Ivy wants me to focus, and find endless pleasure in just barely grazing that spot, making her whimper and gasp. She’s so wet she’s dripping onto the floor, and the entire lower half of my face is covered in her sweet taste. I could eat her out forever. “I could get you off whenever you want me to,” I mention to her offhandedly, stopping for just a second to continue to taunt her. “You know what you have to say.” Ivy’s legs, clamped firmly around the sides of my head, tremble. “I–I won’t–” I thrust my tongue into her, and her words dissolve into moans again. “Whenever you want me to,” I say again. “Fuck, Spencer!” Ivy breathes out, clutching my hair tightly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck–” I gradually star
Ivy's POVAs Spencer wraps his arms around me and pulls me onto the bed beside him, I find myself reeling from what just happened between the two of us. I can feel him seeping out of me, a strange warmth pooling out from between my legs, a sticky reminder of what’s just transpired. As the aftershocks roll through me, I look up at Spencer, whose eyes are half-closed as he stares up at the ceiling. Almost subconsciously, he pulls me even closer against his bare chest, and I can hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his skin. We just had sex. We’re not together anymore–Spencer is engaged to Delilah, and if anything, he’s been avoiding me like the plague. But even despite all of that, we just had sex. What does this mean for us? My mouth falls open as I look up at Spencer again, admiring the gentle angles of his face. I want to trace my fingers along his skin, to feel every inch of him. But now that our intimacy has ended, it feels forbidden to touch him in such romantic wa
Ivy’s POV“Are you ready?” I whisper the question to Spencer as we stand behind a huge set of double doors. I’ve known him as the Lycan King for several weeks now, and been referred to as the Lycan Queen since our wedding, but today is the day it becomes official. Today is the day of the coronation. And I couldn’t be more excited. Every citizen of the Lycan Kingdom physically able to be in attendance is seated just beyond those double doors, dressed in their finest attire. I can hear the waning sounds of the band playing our anthem triumphantly, can hear the heavy steel-toed footfalls of our military as they carry out their grand display. It’s a show of strength and endurance–everything about today has been structured to portray power and confidence, from the massive outdoor ceremony in the palace’s courtyard to the full military regalia on display. “Ready as ever,” Spencer replies. “This is what I was born to, after all.” There’s a firm set to his jaw and iron in his posture. E
Spencer’s POV“Congratulations, Colin!” My mother is the first one to acknowledge the news, smiling gleefully as she looks towards her son and his fiancée. Now that their secret is out, Delilah is positively beaming as she slips the engagement ring out of her pocket and onto her finger, waving her hand back and forth. I chuckle lowly as the happy couple kisses tenderly. I just know they’re going to have the most unnecessarily extravagant wedding possible, and they’re going to adore every second of it. “I’m telling you, they’re only together because Delilah and I were engaged,” I murmur to Ivy out of the corner of my mouth. She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “If you say so, Spencer.” “Must be something in the air,” Sylvia remarks. “I heard Gamma Everly and Captain Leo got engaged, too!” At that news, I smile genuinely. After all the heartbreak she’s endured over the years, I’m glad Gamma Everly has finally found a man who can match her. It seems that my wedding to Ivy was on
Spencer’s POVIt’s been a couple days since I returned from the Sunclash pack and Ivy began recovering from the plague, and things have finally had a chance to settle into a routine. Beta Wilson and Doctor Danbury have been working restlessly to distribute the antidote to those in need far and wide. We’ve eradicated it completely from the Lycan kingdom and have almost finished scrubbing it from the outer packs. All of Elder Jet’s rebels have been placed in our custody, with trials pending. Based on the reports from other packs as well as the newly-formed Werewolf Council, it seems as though Elder Jet’s toxic ideology has been defeated for good. We still have lots to do to repair our relationship with the werewolves, of course, but we’re in a good place to begin that work. And as soon as Ivy returns to her full strength, I’m excited for us to begin that work together. I set down the last stack of papers on my desk and push open the door to my office, wandering back into the main bo
Ivy’s POV“What is it?” Those are the last words I hear, spoken in Spencer’s soothing, familiar voice, before I slip into an uneasy half-sleep. I can feel blankets being shifted and jostled around me, the vibrations from wheels being rolled across a bumpy floor. But my mind is distant, dreaming. I see fire. Magic. Blood. Frantic voices cry out, but there’s someone else, promising that I’m stable–just exhausted. My body is lifted up from the uncomfortable mattress and laid down somewhere much more soft and padded. There, finally, as the terrible burning recedes from my skin, I’m able to fall into a quiet, restful sleep. I’m not sure how much time passes before I finally come to. As my eyes plink open slowly, blearily, the first thing I see is Spencer sitting at the edge of my bed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good morning, Sleepyhead,” he says softly. I let out a quiet chuckle. “What time is it actually?” I groan, dragging a hand down my face. Suddenly I realize that everythin
Spencer’s POVAs I push past the double doors and into the hospital’s foyer, I’m struck by the absolute chaos everywhere. There are patients being pushed and shuffled in every direction, and the entire hospital staff looks criminally overworked, worry lines and downcast expressions almost completely hidden behind thick airtight filters. I realize the yellow suits all the staff are wearing match the protective suits Doctor Danbury gave us when we were investigating the Sunclash pack. And if everyone is in plague equipment now…I can only hope we’ll have enough of the antidote to deal with all the infected. That’s an issue for later, though. Right now, my focus is solely on Ivy. “Where’s the queen?” I shout, looking around the foyer frantically. A nurse rushes over towards me hurriedly, gaze darting back and forth. “She–she’s in the quarantine wing, Your Majesty,” the nurse says. “Quite a few patients are, unfortunately. Before I can take you there, I’m going to have to ask you to
Spencer’s POVAs soon as I pass the threshold of the Lycan Kingdom, I hear a frantic message from Captain Leo echoing in my mind. ‘–and they’re here!’ Comes the call, which has surely been repeating over and over again for ages now, if I’m hearing it as soon as I’m able. Captain Leo’s voice is frantic and desperate. ‘Please, Your Majesty, we have to get this under control. We need you here.’ I grit my teeth and keep my gaze peeled on the road ahead. We’re on our way to the palace now, to deliver the antidote to Ivy and whoever else may need it, but we’re still a matter of minutes away at least. ‘We’re in the kingdom now,’ I assure him. ‘Who’s here?’‘The rest of Elder Jet’s rebels, Your Majesty. It seems they were waiting for you to leave.’ I scowl in displeasure as I watch the scenery continue to blur around us. Of course that was the witch’s final plan, coward that she was. To poison my wife and lure me out to the middle of nowhere knowing how desperate I’d be to cure her… It’s
Ivy’s POVAs I lay in the quarantine room, I can feel the growing sickness continuing to spread through my body. Alongside all the typical postpartum symptoms, which would be horrendous enough on their own, the burning is horrible in its unrelentingness. The pain meds feel more like an empty consolation than anything else now. I’m more fatigued than I’ve ever felt before, but I can’t bring myself to fall asleep, because the agony simmering just beneath my skin is impossible to ignore. Am I being punished for something? ‘What am I going to do?’ I ask Venetia hopelessly. There’s no one else to talk to but her. ‘You’ll pull through,’ Venetia assures me, though I can hear the reluctance in her tone. ‘You heard the rumours–Spencer is out there right now, searching desperately for a cure! He loves you. He’s not going to let you die. You matter too much to him.’ I chuckle bitterly. ‘At a certain point, it doesn’t matter how much he doesn’t want me to die. I’ll die or I won’t.’ Venetia
Spencer’s POVAs my claws tear through the ice-cold flesh of the witch’s body, a bloodcurdling scream suddenly pierces the air. With a fierce cry, the witch tries to wrench herself from my grasp, but she only succeeds in dragging her body along my claws, worsening her own injuries. Blood splatters on the ground and onto my paws. It doesn’t feel like blood normally does, though–it’s cold like freshwater and feels oddly slick, almost oily. I pull my lips back over my teeth and growl viciously, searching for the witch’s neck in this darkness. “You beast!” The witch wails like a banshee. I can see her eyes glinting reflectively like a cat’s in the darkness. As we hit the ground, one of her antlers breaks and falls off. “Do you have any idea how powerful I am? You don’t have the faintest whisper of a chance against me, you brute–” I curl my claws inward, deepening the wounds further, and the witch lets out another ragged scream. Suddenly, the darkness in the room all seems to slither t
Spencer’s POV“Run!” My warning to Alpha Fierro echoes through the darkened office seemingly unheard. As the shadows continue to creep around my field of vision, obscuring everything from view, my heart thuds in my chest. Never before had I been scared of an enemy until encountering the witch. I shift fluidly into my wolf form, powerful arms and legs rippling with muscles, fangs and teeth sharp as daggers. My growl is a low, warning rumble in the base of my throat. Despite my heightened sentences as I continue to peer ahead, ears trained to detect the slightest sense of movement, I still have no idea where the witch is. “Reveal yourself, coward!” I shout, my voice echoing through the room. “You betray your honour by slinking around in the shadows.” The witch’s laugh, low and melodious, fills the air. There’s a haunting coldness to it. “Honour is a werewolf construct,” she says. “And it’s so unlike a proud, foolish warrior to consider it a cowardly action to win a battle with intel